


just this once

by jooheon



Series: benefits with friends [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Morning Wood, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 07:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21194114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooheon/pseuds/jooheon
Summary: It’s just for one night, Ashe tells himself over and over again, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth vigorously.What could be the harm?The harm, it turns out, is that Sylvain doesn’t talk in his sleep, but he does snore, and he does cuddle, and on the face of it Ashe should be annoyed, but when he wakes up as the little spoon with Sylvain’s even breaths tickling the back of his neck, it actually feels very boyfriend-y and nice.Fuck.There’s still a few minutes until his alarm clock will go off, so Ashe resigns himself to enjoying this upsettingly domestic cutesy bullshit at least as long as it takes for Sylvain to wake up. When he shifts a little, trying to make his way to the edge of the bed and away from Sylvain, it prompts this needy little noise in the back of Sylvain’s throat, and he nestles closer into Ashe and—“Oh, that’s lovely,” Ashe says to himself in a strangled whisper. “That’s perfect.”Sylvain is hard against the inside of Ashe’s thighs. The harm is that Sylvain’s dick is big and hard and nudging right up between his thighs, and the harm is that Ashelikesit.





	just this once

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically... if their B-support happened in a college AU, lol. I've been thinking about this since my first playthrough and wrote it today and regret nothing B)

“Let me stay here for the night,” Sylvain says, already edging his way in through the barely-cracked door.

“Hi, Sylvain,” Ashe says, “I’m fine, thanks for asking. Sure, you can come into my room right now. Make yourself at home.”

“Sorry,” Sylvain says, not sounding sorry in the least. He pushes past Ashe and throws himself onto Ashe’s bed, letting his sneakers dangle off the edge. “Hi. Can you, uh, shut the door?”

Part of him wants to say no. A very big part of him. But another part of him has witnessed firsthand the degree of fury Sylvain’s failed conquests have reaped, and is appropriately scared. So he shuts the door, allowing himself a small, beleaguered sigh that Sylvain cheerfully ignores. 

“Let me guess,” Ashe says, turning back to face Sylvain. “Girl problems?”

“Mm.” Sylvain’s laced his hands behind his head, and is staring up at the ceiling contemplatively. “But this time, Ashe, I swear—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Ashe says. “I think I get the picture. Late night hookup gone awry, your philandering ways got the better of you, you need a place to hide away from your life choices. Etcetera.” This isn’t Ashe’s first rodeo. 

Sylvain pouts, propping himself up on his elbows and shaking an errant lock of hair out of his eyes. “Stop thinking I’m a bad guy,” he protests, without actually refuting anything Ashe said.

“I wasn’t,” Ashe says honestly. Of all the words he’d use to describe Sylvain, _bad_ has never been one of them. 

“You were,” Sylvain says, his voice going a bit petulant, “you were totally judging me.”

“No,” Ashe says. “I was just thinking, too bad Ingrid and Felix are busy, for me to get stuck on babysitting duty.”

“That’s rude,” Sylvain remarks. “I didn’t realize our fun friend time was nothing but _babysitting_ to you.” 

Ashe rolls his eyes, but Sylvain barrels on.

“And furthermore, I didn’t ask either of them, I came to you first.” He shoots Ashe a grin, like that’s some kind of compliment. 

“In other words,” Ashe says, “the girl you just broke up with lives in this dorm, and you went for the quickest getaway.”

Sylvain flops back down on the bed. “Fine, yes. But mainly — you’re my friend, Ashe. I trust you, I can count on you — I like spending time with you. I mean it. What more do you want from me?”

Ashe knows when he’s being sweet talked — knows the particular timber of Sylvain’s voice when he’s angling for affection, knows how it goes soft and deep and warm, knows that above all else, Sylvain only came to him out of convenience. But apparently he’s no better than the girls that get suckered in by this whole routine, because he finds himself sitting down at his desk and saying, with his back to the bed, “You can stay if you want. I’ll be doing homework, though.”

“You’re the best!” Sylvain chirps. Ashe doesn’t have to turn around to know the contented smile on his lips, the familiar tilt of his head. The shape of his jaw in profile as he lounges on Ashe’s bed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Just for tonight.”

It was already late when Sylvain showed up, the implications of which Ashe can imagine but is pointedly not going to think about. Instead he pours himself into his problem sets for comp sci, a task that he doesn’t realize is taking forever until Sylvain yawns from behind him, “Do you always stay up this late?”

Ashe glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It’s 1:49. “Oh,” he says, and rubs his eyes. “No. Well, sometimes.”

“What time do you have class tomorrow?” Sylvain says. He’s been on his phone the whole time Ashe has been working, after kicking off his shoes and shamelessly curling up in the comfy part of the bed next to Ashe’s phone charger. 

“8:20,” Ashe says. He shuts his laptop and stands up, stretching. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and get a pillow from the common room.”

“Huh?” Sylvain says. “Why? Your pillow is already like super big?”

Ashe shoots him a withering look. “A pillow for _you_. You’re sleeping on the floor.” When Sylvain’s eyes go wide, he adds: “Or did you think I’d give up my bed?”

“Well, but—” Sylvain sputters. “No, I just — I — surely we can both fit on your bed?”

“Two full grown men on one twin extra long?” Ashe says. “I doubt it.”

“Come on, I’ve done it before!” Sylvain says.

Ashe’s eyebrows shoot up.

“I don’t discriminate based on gender,” Sylvain goes on, determinedly casual. “What kind of no-good playboy would I be if I limited myself to ladies only, right?” 

Ashe has always suspected as much, but it’s one thing to speculate that Sylvain has slept with guys, and it’s entirely another to hear Sylvain himself say, while lying in Ashe’s bed, that he has slept with guys. To Ashe, who has _only_ ever slept with guys, and who had such a bad crush on Sylvain that he couldn’t say more than three sentences at a time to him the first whole semester of college, it’s kind of a lot all at once. 

When an awkward amount of time has passed without him saying anything, Sylvain clears his throat. 

“Hey, uh, if it really bothers you, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Ashe engages in a brief but fierce internal debate that roughly boils down to _Seriously, two grown men can’t sleep comfortably on that bed_ versus _Do it for your freshman self, Ashe!_

“I mean, whatever,” he says finally. Freshman Ashe wins this one. “Stay on the bed if you want. But you’re taking the wall side, and if you snore or move or talk in your sleep I _will_ kick you off.”

“Yay!” Sylvain says happily. “I’m a good bedmate, I swear.”

“I can already tell that you’re not,” Ashe says, frowning, “because you haven’t brushed your teeth. When was the last time you showered?”

“Well, I didn’t bring any toiletries,” Sylvain says. “Sue me. It’s just for one night.”

_It’s just for one night_, Ashe tells himself over and over again, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth vigorously. _What could be the harm?_

The harm, it turns out, is that Sylvain doesn’t talk in his sleep, but he does snore, and he does cuddle, and on the face of it Ashe should be annoyed, but when he wakes up as the little spoon with Sylvain’s even breaths tickling the back of his neck, it actually feels very boyfriend-y and nice. _Fuck_. 

There’s still a few minutes until his alarm clock will go off, so Ashe resigns himself to enjoying this upsettingly domestic cutesy bullshit at least as long as it takes for Sylvain to wake up. When he shifts a little, trying to make his way to the edge of the bed and away from Sylvain, it prompts this needy little noise in the back of Sylvain’s throat, and he nestles closer into Ashe and— 

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Ashe says to himself in a strangled whisper. “That’s perfect.”

Sylvain is hard against the inside of Ashe’s thighs. The harm is that Sylvain’s dick is big and hard and nudging right up between his thighs, and the harm is that Ashe _likes_ it. What’s more, Sylvain is still asleep, so Ashe is the only one who has to live with not just the knowledge that his friend’s morning wood is only a few inches away from crossing the Rubicon of platonic intercrural, but also the shame of being actually turned on by it. 

“I’m a terrible person,” he whimpers as his own dick gets hard. The thing is that he can’t help it — it’s too early in the morning for him to be in full control of his faculties, and the way Sylvain is pressed up all against the back of him, and the _angle_ he’s at, almost lined up with Ashe’s ass — with these physical stimuli and his mental defenses down, wouldn’t it be weirder if Ashe _didn’t_ get turned on? 

He’s preparing to plead his defense, should Sylvain wake up and get freaked out by this, but then something even stranger happens. Or maybe, because it _is_ Sylvain, what happens next is actually, through some bizarre 180° logical leap, perfectly normal. 

Sylvain does wake up, and he completely just rolls with it. 

Ashe can tell the exact moment he wakes up, because the rhythm of his breathing changes, and his limbs start to sort of stir and stretch, and the length of his dick draws back away a little bit, lessening that sweet, torturous contact for a moment. 

Then, Sylvain says in a low, throaty voice, so close to his ear it sends a shiver down his spine, “_Ashe_.” 

Ashe feels himself grow, impossibly, harder. 

“Um,” he says. 

Sylvain is awake now, clearly, because Ashe can feel him moving with intent. There’s nothing urgent about it, but his hands are gathered up at Ashe’s shoulderblades, and he starts massaging slow circles there. It’s — it should be weird, Ashe knows, but something about the whole thing — the way he can’t see Sylvain’s face, and the early morning light streaming in through the window, and the warmth of the slept-in sheets — gives it all a slight dreamlike quality, to the point that he wants to follow this through.

So he lets Sylvain knead at his back, and lets his hands wander up under his T-shirt, first the back and then the front, and gives a quiet gasp when Sylvain’s long fingers start playing with his nipples. Neither of them are saying anything, but Sylvain is still so close behind him, that Ashe can hear his breathing roughen. And when Ashe pushes his hips back experimentally against Sylvain’s dick, he can hear Sylvain’s breath hitch in response. 

“Ashe,” Sylvain groans, and he’s pressing himself into the swell of Ashe’s ass. He’s only in his boxers and Ashe has on pair of thin cotton pajama pants, but it still feels like there’s way too much fabric between them — Ashe instinctively ruts back a little to get closer. 

“Fuck,” he swears quietly, shuddering as Sylvain tweaks his nipple again, “Sylvain, should we—?”

“Is it okay if I…?” Sylvain says, wiggling his hips, and snaking his hand down Ashe’s belly, pausing at the top of his pajama pants. 

“Yes,” Ashe says, though he’s not totally sure what Sylvain was going to ask. 

The moment he’s given permission Sylvain pushes Ashe’s pants down and palms at his dick. The contact is so sudden that Ashe flinches a little, and hears himself exhale sharply. 

“Sorry,” Sylvain says, “I’ll be more gentle—”

“N-no,” Ashe says, as Sylvain begins to stroke him dry, the sensation riding the length of his body and fuzzing out the edges of his brain, “it’s okay, keep going like that.”

Sylvain’s thumb slides over the head of Ashe’s dick, swiping at the precum beaded there, and he starts building a rhythm, nothing too fast but his grip is firm and hot, and he keeps twisting his wrist and teasing the tip. It’s hot and good, and for a while Ashe is so absorbed in the pleasure that he doesn’t notice Sylvain thrusting shallowly behind him. 

“Wait,” he says, and Sylvain’s hand stills.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I want you to—” It’s too embarrassing to say out loud, so Ashe just reaches back, grasping at the hem of Sylvain’s boxers to shove them down so that he can grasp at his cock, guiding it forward and squeezing his thighs together around it so that Sylvain’s erection is nudging at the base of his own. 

“Oh,” Sylvain says, his voice deep and strangled. “Oh, shit, Ashe—”

“Is this okay?” Ashe says, starting to move his hips.

“Yes, _fuck_,” Sylvain breathes, and then he’s stroking Ashe again, a little faster as he starts fucking into his thighs. His breathing becomes a series of shallow grunts, and Ashe can’t help but moan at that — not just the sensation of Sylvain jerking him off, and Sylvain’s dick, pushing up against his balls with every thrust, but the _sound_ of Sylvain from behind him, losing control, getting off on this just as much as Ashe is. They should probably have lubed up Ashe’s thighs first but Sylvain’s dick is leaking sufficiently to slick them up enough, and he’s pounding into Ashe almost desperately, his fist around Ashe’s dick losing its rhythm as he chases his own pleasure. 

For his part, Ashe is already right on the edge. It’s so much, it’s overwhelming, and the way Sylvain’s dick feels against his own is almost unbearably good. It’s so much like this, but it’s also somehow not enough, and Ashe brings his hand down over Sylvains as he says, “I’m really close — can we—?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain says huskily, before Ashe can get out the question.

With a little maneuvering, Ashe turns over so that they’re facing each other. Instantly, he feels like this might have been a bad idea, because now he can _see_ Sylvain, which is a whole new dimension to the sensory overload. Sylvain is puffy-eyed with sleep, his hair matted weirdly, and he’s flushed, eyes dark, and so _stupidly_, ridiculously handsome lying there on Ashe’s bed. 

“_Fuck_, Ashe,” Sylvain says quietly, unevenly. “You look so good.”

“I wanna,” Ashe lines their dicks up together and wraps his hand around them both, “finish like this.”

Sylvain nods, and lays his hand over Ashe’s, squeezes tight with those big strong fingers, and then it’s just a haze of tight wet friction, and the bliss of Sylvain’s cock throbbing for him and the feeling of Sylvain’s grip on him, and Ashe comes with a gasp, riding out his orgasm and letting his hand keep moving on autopilot, smearing his cum on Sylvain’s dick as he comes too, swearing and shuddering as he dirties Ashe’s sheets. 

Neither of them move for a long time afterward. They’re still facing each other — his hand is still on Sylvain’s soft dick, for fuck’s sake — but Ashe can’t bring himself to meet Sylvain’s eyes. It’s awkward, not in the terrifying, panic-inducing way, but in a strange, tender way Ashe isn’t used to. He wishes Sylvain would say or do something to break the silence, but for the longest time, he won’t, and they’re both stuck just listening to the other breathe.

What saves them, eventually, is Ashe’s alarm clock going off, a series of loud, annoying chimes. He wipes off his hand hastily before silencing it, and when he turns back to Sylvain, he finds that he can make eye contact now. 

“I,” Ashe says, clearing his throat, “have to go to class.”

“Do you?” Sylvain says. He’s gazing deeply into Ashe’s eyes. 

“Yes,” Ashe says uncertainly. 

“You could skip,” Sylvain says. 

“I have to go,” Ashe says, but it sounds weak. “Listen, Sylvain…”

“Don’t say this was a mistake,” Sylvain says, all in a rush. “Please.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Ashe says. “I mean, this probably shouldn’t have happened. But it did, and I… I don’t know if I regret it or not yet. I was just going to say… maybe we should keep this just between us.”

“Did you think I was going to go telling everyone?” Sylvain says, looking a little insulted. 

“You’re not really known for your discretion,” Ashe points out. 

Sylvain pouts at that, sticking out his lower lip, as upsettingly good looking as ever. 

“I’ll keep it a secret, then,” Sylvain says petulantly. Then his tone softens and he adds, “But I don’t regret it at all.”

“Good for you,” Ashe says. “You might later, though.”

“No,” Sylvain says quietly and oddly serious, “I don’t really think I will.”

Something stirs deep in Ashe’s chest then, but he ignores it and begins to sit up. “I really am going to class now.”

“Just skip,” Sylvain says cajolingly, a little more familiar. “You work too hard. Stay in.”

“Not this time,” Ashe says briskly, tucking himself back into his pajamas and rolling out of bed. 

“Oh?” Sylvain says, perking up. “Does that imply there’ll be a next time?”

Ashe opens his mouth to say no, but then he looks at Sylvain. Still lying in his bed, tousled and smelling of sex, grinning and bright-eyed. Still a no-good playboy, still Ashe’s good friend. And it _should_ be weird that they just hooked up, and he _should_ be firm about it not happening again, but he’s never been good at refusing Sylvain, and giving in is apparently a hard habit to break. 

“No comment,” he says at last. He swivels away from the bed to grab his shower caddy and start getting ready for his day, but not before he catches a glimpse of Sylvain’s bright, blinding smile, the way he settles comfortably in Ashe’s bed as he says happily:

“I’m holding you to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> //aggressively imagines sequel in which they go from fwb-->boyfriends because that is my ultimate kink!! haha. maybe I'll write that at some point.


End file.
